SEVEN NATION ARMY

War was upon them. It was beating at their doorstep, demanding that they answer. And Valhalla was going to do just that. They weren't to sit idly by while the wolves of Glaciem came and took whatever they wanted. They were going to stand up and fight, defend their people and their home. Demonio needed to fight, needed to get rid of these Glaciems to protect his daughter. They couldn't take her from him. They wouldn't take her. Not if he had anything to do about it. A call of distress would catch the man's attention, ivory crown moving towards the sound. War. It was here. Glaciem was here; it was now or never.


Features were wiped clean of emotion, pale lips curling back with a hint of a snarl. Audits would be pulled back against his skull, mismatched gems of fire and ice would be narrowed to slits as he arrived on the scene, noting that Pontifex and Gael had already arrived before him, though sadly they were the only ones from Valhalla to make an appearance. Where were the rest of the warriors? The white knight would pull himself up beside Pontifex, nodding to the man Pontifex as he turned to face the wolves of Glaciem, noticing that their numbers currently were greater than Val's. But the Calvary would come; or he so hoped. Powerful shoulders would roll forward to scrunch the scruff around his neck, knees bending slightly, toes splayed for even balance, plume aligned with his spine while he tucked his chin against his chest. Let them come.


Talk like this